Peter WHY...

Peter Parker swung through the streets, his red-and-black suit cutting a lone figure against the frosty rooftops. His night patrol had been a slog—hours of webbing from building to building, the cold biting through his gloves, and not a single crook or carjacker to show for it. The city's lights twinkled below, a patchwork of snow-dusted streets and half-lit windows, but the usual buzz of trouble was absent. 

Boring as hell, Peter thought, his breath fogging as he landed on a high perch, scanning the horizon. No action, no nothing—guess even the bad guys are sleeping off the New Year.

He adjusted his mask, the fabric snug against his face, and swung to another rooftop, his webs slicing through the icy air. Maybe I should've stayed in with Liz—watched a movie or something, he mused, But duty calls. He was mid-swing when his gaze caught a flicker of movement atop a tall building—a man standing at the edge, his silhouette stark against the snowy skyline, looking down below.

Peter's spider-sense tingled faintly, not a scream of danger but a nudge of unease. Guy's just standing there—too close, he thought, narrowing his eyes as he swung closer, landing silently on a ledge a few feet away. Suicide vibe—seen it before. Gotta move fast. The man swayed slightly, his dark coat flapping in the wind, his hands gripping the railing as he stared at the drop—ten stories down to the icy street.

Peter crept forward, his boots soft on the snow-dusted roof, his thoughts racing. Can't let him jump—quiet night or not, this is on me. He edged nearer, close enough to see the man's tense shoulders, then fired a web line from his wrist, the strand snapping taut as it wrapped around the man's waist. With a sharp tug, Peter yanked him back, pulling him off the edge.

The man stumbled, falling backward onto the rooftop with a thud, snow puffing around him. "What the hell?!" he cursed, his voice raw as he scrambled to sit up, his hands clawing at the webbing. "Who—?!" His words cut off as he turned, his eyes widening at the sight of Peter in his red-and-black suit, the Spider-Man emblem glinting under the faint streetlight glow. His mouth snapped shut, shock silencing him as he froze, staring up at his rescuer.

That shut him up quick, Peter thought, a wry grin tugging beneath his mask as he stepped closer, his web shooter still at the ready. Guess Spider-Man's a mood-killer for cussing—good to know.

The man sat sprawled in the snow, his dark coat dusted white, his initial curse cut short as he stared up at Spider-Man, shock replacing his anger. Peter's night patrol had been dull until now, and this—whatever this was—had just jolted him awake. Guy's a mess, Peter thought, his spider-sense quiet but his gut tight. Let's see what's driving him up here.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Peter asked, his voice sharp through the mask as he stepped closer, towering over the man. "Standing on the edge like that—what's the deal?"

The man looked away, his jaw clenching as he muttered, "You wouldn't understand." His voice was raw, trembling with something deeper than the cold.

Peter crouched, leveling his gaze, his tone firm but edged with impatience. "Try me," he said. "I don't swing around saving random guys for fun—spill it, or I'll web you to this roof till you do."

The man flinched, his hands balling into fists in the snow, but Peter's push broke through. He exhaled shakily, his eyes darting to the drop he'd nearly taken. "It's my wife," he said, his voice cracking. "She's cheating on me—with her boss. I saw them—on my couch, in my house. Screwing like I didn't exist. She's ripped my heart out, and I… I just wanna end it here."

Peter's gut twisted, a flash of pity cutting through his irritation. Damn—that's brutal, he thought, his mind flicking to Liz, the warmth of her beside him just hours ago. Can't imagine that stab in the back—guy's crushed. He stood, stepping forward, and pulled the man into a quick, firm hug, his suited arms wrapping around the trembling figure. "I hear you," he said, his voice softening. "That sucks—really sucks."

The man stiffened, then relaxed slightly, a sob catching in his throat—until Peter stepped back and, with a swift flick of his wrist, slapped him across the face. The hit was controlled, his enhanced strength reined in to sting without harm, a sharp crack echoing in the snowy silence. The man reeled, clutching his cheek, his eyes wide with shock. "What the hell?!" he yelped, staring at Spider-Man. "You hug me, then slap me? What's wrong with you?"

Peter tilted his head, his voice steady but cutting. "What would change if you killed yourself?" he asked, letting the question hang in the air. The man froze, his mouth opening but no words coming. Peter pressed on, his tone hardening. "Think about it—your wife gets your cash, your house, everything you've got. She wins—her and that boss of hers, laughing while you're gone. Divorce her? You'd lose the house anyway, pay her alimony every month—end up homeless, broke, while she's still screwing around. Look at Ross from Friends—guy didn't even cheat, and his wife took everything. That what you want?"

The man stayed silent, his breath hitching as the words sank in, his eyes darting to the snowy rooftop. He's getting it, Peter thought, watching the shift. Ross Geller—perfect example. Screwed over, no fault of his own. Time to flip this. The man looked up, his voice small. "What should I do, then?"

Peter stared at him silently, his mask hiding a grim, calculating smirk as he leaned closer. "Be smart," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "Don't be the loser here—make her pay. Wait a bit—lay low, act like nothing's wrong. Then set it up—make it look like an accident. Car crash, robbery gone wrong, random hit-and-run—something clean, quick. She's out, and no one's digging deeper."

The man blinked, his shock giving way to a flicker of dark resolve, his hands unclenching. "An… accident?" he asked, his voice tentative but growing firm. "You think that'd work?"

"Works like a charm," Peter said, his tone sharp and cold. "She won't see it coming—bide your time, plan it tight. Make it messy, random—cops'll call it bad luck, case closed. You walk away, she doesn't. She cheated—make her regret it." No loose ends, no trail—clean and quiet, Peter thought, his smirk hidden. Better than bleeding out alimony or jumping off a roof—lets him win without a trace back to me.

The man nodded slowly, his shoulders squaring as he stood, brushing snow off his coat. "Okay," he said, his voice low but steady. "I'll… I'll figure it out. Thanks, Spider-Man."

Peter gave a curt nod, stepping back. "Good—get moving. Be the one standing, not the one losing. Oh yeah one more thing if you fuck it up, don't say my name. I got a reputation to keep. " He'll pull it off—smart enough to keep it slick, he thought, satisfaction settling in. 

"I promise you Spiderman I won't betray you like that bitch." the man answered. 

"Yeah that's the spirit, bro's before hoe's. By the way what's your name ?" Peter asked.

"I'm Sebastian" He replied.

"Well then Good bye Sebastian, Always keep your need at the top" .He fired a web line to the next building, swinging off into the snowy night, leaving the man staring after him, a new fire in his eyes.